


More Than Never

by Kristylee



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Drunkenness, M/M, Rutting, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-26 01:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14390958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristylee/pseuds/Kristylee
Summary: Will is Hannibal's college professor.





	More Than Never

The lecture hall is chilly, no windows to let in the warm September air. Hannibal pulls his sleeves down over his hands and takes out a notebook. Other students use laptops or audio recorders, but in private school those implements weren't tolerated in the classroom; a classic pen and paper suffice just fine for note taking. Hannibal waits for the professor, middle row, inconspicuous, unnoticed among everybody else. 

The students all murmur and introduce themselves to each other, but Hannibal isn't here to make friends. He's here for the grade and a recommendation from the professor for the pre-med program next fall. 

The professor walks through the door, slight in a tweed jacket and brown slacks. His hair grays at the temples, slicked back but curly where left alone. He touches his glasses, not to push them up his nose, but just as a habit for something to do with his free hand not holding his leather case. The initials WG engraved in the material below the handle. He is a tall man who sells himself as much smaller.

Hannibal sits up in his seat, the cheap wooden chair groans a bit, the only sound in the entire hall. He watches the man at the front write on the dry erase board behind the sleek desk - Dr. Will Graham, Intro to Forensic Science.

Hannibal scrawls Graham in the top corner of a clean sheet of paper.

“My name is Dr. Will Graham. This is introduction to Forensic Sciences, and if you are mistakenly in the wrong hall, please leave. If you are in the right hall, please take a syllabus and pass it along.” His voice is quiet in tone, but firm and stern as if speaking to children.

Hannibal takes his copy and hands the girl next to him the rest of the stack. The semester is broken down in weeks. Reading and assignments due each week, tests bi weekly, a final project and research paper. Standard syllabus rigamarole. 

“Since you've all made it this far, I'm sure you can read, please do so with the syllabus on your own time.” Graham hits the lights and brings up a PowerPoint on the first chapter they will be working on - fiber and cloth identification and analysis.

There are no funny anecdotes between slides, no additional information, but each word out of Graham's mouth, Hannibal writes down in a neat, swirling script. By the end of the fifty minute lecture, Hannibal has filled ten pages of notes, hand cramping and sore. Graham turns the lights back on and asks if there are any questions. 

The girl next to Hannibal raises her hand. “When are your office hours?”

Graham visibly and purposefully rolls his eyes and forces his hands in his pockets. “About the lecture,” he amends. “Is anybody confused about the information I've given today?”

Nobody raises their hands this time. 

“Thinking like a forensic scientist involves looking at all the evidence, even things that are not there.”

Hannibal writes that down. It couldn't hurt. 

“If you read the syllabus this week and decide this course isn't for you, I suggest not coming in on Friday. For those of you who do and show up, I'll see you then.”

Will Graham grabs his briefcase and exits the room. 

***  
The week is a blur of class, ramen noodles and sleep when he can catch it. Hannibal sits in the same seat, same row in Will Graham's class as he did on Monday. Noticeably there are less students today then there were on Monday. The girl who sat next to him is nowhere to be seen.

Hannibal takes out his textbook and notebook. Today's lecture can be followed along with the book, as the visuals are necessary, not by PowerPoint slides. It said so in the syllabus.

Hannibal is prepared for all of his classes. A good student. 

Will Graham comes in later than the previous session and fingers his glasses again. His button down is light blue, tie blood red. His hair is cut from last week, short and wild. Hannibal notices the gray flanks his temples still. He clears his throat and looks out at the faces. 

“I'm not in the mood to waste my time today with excuses and miserable sob stories.” He nods and continues. “If you didn't bring the textbook, I suggest you leave, because nobody is going to share their book with you.”

Twelve students grumble and groan and gather their things to leave. They didn't read the syllabus or buy their book yet. Will waits until the last student has left and shuts the door behind him.

“Now. Turn to the sixth chapter and we can begin.” He looks up again. “With...all ten of you.” He sounds disappointed, but his expression doesn't betray him.

Will Graham is a difficult professor. He expects excellence and doesn't care for anything less. Hannibal's papers and tests are always nearly perfect. Some flaw, even small is always found to keep him from a spotless score. Hannibal sees him on campus from time to time, but never with anybody. Always alone, hand to his glasses, drinking coffee from a paper cup.

Hannibal doesn't think much of Will Graham until one day in class they get into a debate that feels like and sounds more like an argument. A bickering back and forth like an old married couple, somewhere close to Halloween. On the topic of decomposition of moths if found in fresh or saltwater. 

It's a base argument that leaves Hannibal red faced, heart beating rapidly in his chest. They don't agree or see eye to eye and it infuriates him to no end. Much of the semester goes that way. When Graham wants to debate with a student there's no escape and it is always with Hannibal.

“...Realistically, a forensic scientist is only looking at the evidence and the facts.”

“I agree,” Hannibal replies.

Will feigns shock and removes his glasses. “Did the most stubborn human being I've ever met just agree with me?”

Hannibal blushes and sinks in his seat. Will makes “I've ever met” comments when referring to Hannibal in class. Most stubborn, most analytical, most vulgar. Hannibal had used clinical terms for human anatomy in one class and Will burst out in laughter, saying that it was vulgar for such a young man to speak as if he were fifty years his senior.

More and more Hannibal goes home and thinks of Will Graham. He makes his blood hot. His face flush and he argues like nobody else is in the class, but Hannibal. It's irritating. 

Hannibal drinks at a bar not far from his dorm that offers peanuts on the bar top and tables and a good burger if you're hungry. He sits with Bedelia and drinks imported stout and complains about Will Graham. 

“All you do is bitch about your professors. We both know you're smarter than them anyway.”

Hannibal shakes his head and rubs his hands together, caging in his half empty glass. “Will Graham is smart.”

Bedelia changes the subject after a sip of wine and a roll of her eyes. “I think I'm seeing somebody.” She sounds unsure of herself which is uncharacteristically endearing.

“Oh?” Hannibal smirks. He wishes he had a cigarette. Just something to do with his hands. Maybe glasses to hold up.

“She's really sweet,” Bedelia offers, pink cheeked. “Her name is Alana and she's only a sophomore.”

“What's her major?”

“Psychiatry, like me. She's beyond her classes though. She should have gone to college earlier.”

“She sounds great,” Hannibal offers the the rim of his glass. He takes a long pull and thinks of Will Graham. At least twenty years his senior. He shakes it off and asks when he can meet Alana. They talk about Bedelia the rest of the evening.

They stay for one more round and take a cab back to their respective dorms. Hannibal picks up the tab both at the bar and for the taxi. He hugs Bedelia and promises to see her and Alana next week. 

Hannibal lies on top of his bed without undressing or getting under the covers despite the chill in the air. It's almost Thanksgiving but he won't be going home. He hides his face behind his hands, pushes his palms to his eyes and lets the reds of the back of his eyelids swim around until he falls asleep, no classes in the morning.

Thanksgiving break is nothing special, Hannibal studies and eats plate after plate of home cooked food brought in by friends and acquaintances. Turkey, potatoes, vegetables and bread or biscuits. He is full and happy one night in the middle of break and goes to the bar off campus for a beer alone and content with the time off from studying so much and having the ability to read something other than textbooks.

Hannibal smokes outside before going in. It's not a habit he is especially proud of, but one that started in high school when trying to fit in with the other boys that simply stuck. It begins to snow, so he finishes and heads inside. 

The bar top is full, it's a busy, loud night so Hannibal takes a seat at one of the tables and waits to be seen to order his drink. He pokes at the fresh bowl of nuts on the table to pass the time. 

A pretty girl in jeans and a tight black t-shirt offers him one of the burgers from the menu, but he orders his usual and waits with his phone. He hears a familiar voice at the end of the bar, mumbling incoherently. He looks up and around to see Will Graham clumsily nursing a tumbler of whiskey.

A little rough around the edges, not as together as he is in class, Will slumps on his stool, this whiskey obviously not his first. Hannibal is embarrassed for the man, he's making a little bit of a scene, talking about a creature with a stag's head and nightmares and a woman named Molly. 

Hannibal should be laughing. He's never seen one of his professors drunk before. Sure, they all have their own lives, but it was hard to imagine Will having a life of his own. As absurd as that sounds. Instead, Hannibal feels guilt and shame and wants to help. 

There are a few empty stools next to Will as he is throwing his arms around above his head in measurement of the stag antlers. Hannibal takes one of the stools and approaches his professor like a wounded animal.

“Professor?”

Will’s eyes are watery but bright. He smiles full tilt at Hannibal when he sees him. “Hannibal. Please, outside of class, I’m Will.” The sentence is slurred and strung together sloppily. 

“Will. Are you okay?” Hannibal panics for a moment. “Do you have a way home?”

The girl in the black shirt brings Hannibal his beer. Impulsively, he shakes his head. “Can I have two waters instead?”

“Sure thing, hon.” She eyes Will and then raises her eyebrows in sympathy to Hannibal.

Will gulps down the rest of his whiskey and looks around for the bartender. “You know what, I'm a free man.”

Hannibal shakes his head. “Okay? What does that mean?”

“My wife is now my ex wife,” Will says eyes closed. He is getting tired and fast. Hannibal pushes a water in front of him and takes the empty tumbler.

“I'm sorry, Will.” He doesn't know what to say. He'd never noticed a ring on his hand before. It's a little difficult to swallow, and Hannibal can't figure out why. 

“It's just final. We've been apart for months. Before school started, I think. Wow…” Will wipes a hand down his face, over a fresh beard and looks at Hannibal. “It’s for the best, I guess. Molly wanted kids and” - He whispers - “She's no spring chicken.”

Hannibal laughs at that, embarrassed to know these things.

“I'm forty two, Hannibal. I'm alone. I'm a lonely, old man.”

It's amazing to Hannibal that the bar goes on around them.

“Would you like a ride home, Will?” Hannibal wants to comfort the man somehow. The smartest man he knows, but he can't bring himself to touch him. Hannibal's mother comforted with touch, a hug, a warm vanilla scented embrace that he wishes he could have now.

“Home. Hmmm. I'm ready to go home.”

Will staggers as he stands and catches himself on Hannibal's shoulders and back. His breath as he huffs out a laugh is hot on the back of Hannibal's neck. He can hear a whispered apology and ignores it. Hannibal pays and they leave. 

“My car is this way.”

Will follows Hannibal the way a blind man would, his shadow. He is close, Hannibal can feel the heat coming off him in waves. It makes him anxious. His palms sweat in the cold. He digs his keys from his pocket and gets the door for Will. The man falls into the car and groans with his head in his hands.

“Where are we going, Will?”

“Spinner street downtown. Do you know it?”

Hannibal punches it into his phone’s GPS and pulls out of the parking lot. He glances at Will who is full on staring at him, bleary eyed and reverent. 

They stop at a light and Will plops his hand down in the cup holders between them.

“Your car is really clean.”

“Thank you. I like to take good care of my things.”

Will nods and smiles with something Hannibal can't place. He looks disappointed, let down by something he won't say. His eyes are closed as if asleep, but his lips move soundlessly. Hannibal keeps driving. Spinner is a bit out of his way, but he doesn't mind. 

Will’s hand moves from the cup holder to the outseam of Hannibal’s jeans, fingers along the thigh and neither one of them says anything. Hannibal holds his breath for two streets and lets it go quietly. Will curls his fingers inward, between Hannibal's legs and his breath is loud in the car. Hannibal doesn't know what to do, but he knows he can't move. Something tells him not to move.

“I think sometimes… Hannibal.”

Hannibal nods, Will’s fingers leaving hot stripes through the denim. They pull up to Will’s place, modest with a good front yard. Hannibal looks out his window and decides he doesn't want Will to take his hand away. It's a heart wrenching revelation.

“I think of sucking your cock, Hannibal. If you'd let me.” He unbuckles his seatbelt in a swift motion and leans as close to Hannibal as he can. His deft fingers curl around Hannibal's cock through his jeans and it aches. It's sweet and terrifying and this is his hard-ass professor hitting on him and Hannibal’s chest is tight, his face hot, breath steaming the window. His mind is a twisted thought of ‘I would let you.’

“Will…” Hannibal is humiliated that is comes out a sigh instead of a firm decline to his advances. His hand hovers over Will’s but doesn't touch. Their hands make strange shadows in the streetlights, hidden in the safety of the car.

“Hannibal, please.” 

The plea is what makes Hannibal hard. To hear Will’s voice devolve into a hurried whisper sends shockwaves through his body. He feels an open mouthed kiss pressed to his temple and fingers on his zipper. 

“Will, you can't.” It's regrettable but Will is drunk and not thinking. Hannibal can't take advantage of him this way. It's not fair to either of them, not like this, not drunk and in a car.

Will sobers up for a moment, his forehead on Hannibal's shoulder. They breathe. It's all they can do. “I'm sorry.” Will’s voice is broken, rough and raw and Hannibal would give anything to make it alright again.

Will presses a kiss to his shoulder that goes cold when he exits the car and stumbles to his front door. Hannibal unclenches his fists and once Will is inside, he heads back to his dorm, where he jerks off with the sound of Will saying please in his ears.

***  
“He did what?” Bedelia is beside herself. “You need to go to the Dean.”

Hannibal shakes his head. “I can't. He could lose his job. He seems like an asshole in class, but he loves teaching. Plus he and his wife just finalized their divorce.” Hannibal bites his thumbnail. “Besides, the semester is almost over. I won't have to … see him anymore after the next couple of weeks.”

That thought pierces Hannibal, it hurts to say out loud. Class has been awkward. Will doesn't seem to remember anything that happened, and if he does, he doesn't let on. Hannibal is both disappointed and relieved. He tends to watch Wills hands more during class and then goes home and thinks of those hands on him and it's weird but it's good.

“He assaulted you.”

“Come on, Bedelia. It's not...its not as if he molested me. He got drunk and horny. It's not a big deal. Fuck.”

It is a big deal. For two weeks, it's all Hannibal has thought about. How warm Will’s fingers were, long and solid against him. He aches thinking back on it.

“Oh my God,” Bedelia breathes. “God damn it, Hannibal, you're into him.” She seems incredulous and shocked and a little amused. “You're hot for teacher.”

“Shut up,” Hannibal chides, but his face is flushed and she can tell. “I'm not…”

“Don't say you're not, because you obviously are. God that’s sick. You're a cliche, Hannibal. You want to fuck your professor. You're the girl in porn.”

Hannibal frowns at her. “Can we please just drop it. It's not like anything is going to come of it.” He lights a cigarette and opens the window, freezing air against his knuckles. He blows smoke down to the street.

“Fine. I have to go anyway. I'm meeting Alana for dinner.” 

Hannibal smokes two more and goes to bed. He has Will’s class in the morning and he thinks of skipping, but he is a good student and knows that in the end, he won't. He falls asleep and dreams of Will’s mouth stretched around him, holding his hips. He wakes up bucking and wet and showers before class, a soapy fist to get him off.

Class is a blur. It has been for two weeks. Hannibal reads all the assignments and is still doing better than anybody else in the class, but now when Will speaks, all Hannibal can hear is him begging. 

“Hannibal, please.” Soft and wrecked. It's played over and over in his mind. “If you’d let me.”

“I’d suck your cock. If you'd let me.”

By the end of the lecture, Hannibal is sweating a little and antsy to get back home. When everybody stands up to leave, Will makes it a point to say over the noise “Mr. Lecter, if you don't mind…” and waves him to the desk.

Will packs up his notes and things in his briefcase, stalling until the room is empty of any other student. He looks Hannibal dead on. “I wanted to apologize.”

Hannibal shifts his weight and looks away. “You don't have to.”

“I recall touching you inappropriately a few weeks ago and I am truly sorry.” His voice is repentant and Hannibal licks his lips. “I am embarrassed by my actions.”

“I mean...you were intoxicated, these things happen. I don't blame you. I'm not scarred from it or anything. It's okay. I swear.”

“Still…” Will clears his throat. “I don't want you to think less of me as your professor.”

“I don't.”

“Good. Thank you.” Will touches his glasses and smiles polite and innocent, apologetic.

“I think about you differently though...in other ways,” Hannibal admits in a small voice. He watches Will look to the door and then back at him, eyes alight with something other than apologies. 

“How so? If you don't mind my asking,” Will half whispers as if this could be broken at any moment, he is careful with himself as if Hannibal might run.

Hannibal licks his lips again, nervous to say. He adjusts his bag and looks at the desk. “I think about you begging me to let you suck me off. You said so in the car that night. What I didn't say is that I would let you.”

Wills intake of breath is sharp. He touches his glasses when Hannibal looks at him. 

“I think… once, I thought of bending you over your desk where anybody could see us and fucking you within an inch of your life.” 

Hannibal grows more confident as Will shrinks beneath his words. There is a power here and he is enjoying the flustered state it creates in Will. He is enjoying the way it makes his own heart race to speak to somebody this way.

“You make me think of things I shouldn't be thinking of, Will.”

Will swipes a hand across his mouth. “Please,” he whispers. “Hannibal, don't.”

“You asked.”

“I know. I just didn't realize. I didn't think…”

“I didn't either. But here we are.”

“It’s unethical.”

“Yeah, it is. But damned if you don't want it. You want me, Will. I know you do.” 

“You're right,” Will concedes, “You're right, but I can't touch you until you're out of my class. Even then…”

“Then,” Hannibal says stepping around the desk, “I'll see you in January.”

***

Hannibal stays on campus for Christmas break. The dorms are all abandoned and quiet. He reads to pass the time, or he thinks of Will. He thinks of how they don't argue in class anymore. Those thoughts quickly devolve into sexual fantasies of Will begging for something. He says please with such need; as if he would perish without Hannibal to touch him. These thoughts usually end with Hannibal taking a cold shower and praying January comes quickly.

He gets coffee one morning from the cafe on campus because it's close and cheap. He brings a book to read and the pages get wet with snow, wrinkling at the ends. He picks a table to camp out on and goes to the line for his drink.

Vaguely, Hannibal registers the cool rush of air as the door opens behind him as somebody comes in, but doesn't think anything of it until a tap of two fingers touches his shoulder. He turns and knows it's Will before he sees him; he's wearing the same cologne he wore that night at the bar.

“Good morning,” Will whispers. 

“Will,” Hannibal nods. “How are you?”

“Sober,” Will jokes. He smiles and it reaches his eyes. Hannibal feels Will is genuinely surprised and happy to see him.

“That's good,” Hannibal turns to the barista. “I'll take a tall Americano, please. And whatever he is having.” He points to Will who startles a bit. 

“How kind, Hannibal. Yes, I will have a caramel macchiato with soy milk, please.” He seems embarrassed by the offer, cheeks slightly pink, shoulders drawn in.

They sit together because nobody is around to see how strange it is; the campus is barren. Will is silent as he drinks his coffee, and so is Hannibal. There is a tension pulled tight as a bow string between them and it hurts with want. 

Finally, Hannibal speaks. “Do you think of me?”

Will exhales slowly and curls his fingers around his paper cup. His eyes dart around the cafe and he nods as if it is forced from him. 

“I'd like to know how.”

“Here? You want me to say these things here?”

“Why not?” Hannibal smiles, wicked. “Surely it's nothing inappropriate.”

“And yet, it kind of is,” Will laughs. “You're so young, Hannibal. So intelligent. I heard you're pre med. I will gladly write you a recommendation if you need one.”

“Tell me,” Hannibal orders. His voice takes on a splintered edge he's never heard from himself. Somehow he knows he can get anything from this man. He can make him do or say anything he wants him to.

Will exhales, sharp and short. “I think of you in ways I've never thought of Molly, my ex wife.”

“Sexually?”

“All the time. I want...I want to make you feel good. I want to be good for you.”

It's night and day the way Will holds himself in and out of class. He is strong, intimidating and harsh in class, but with Hannibal he is needy and quiet and uncertain. 

“Meet me in the bathroom,” Hannibal says as he gets up from the table. 

Hannibal exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding and waits by the sinks. His hands are freezing with anticipation. He paces a moment and then the door opens. 

“Why are we in the bathroom?” Will asks. 

Hannibal steels himself and walks Will to the wall by the hand dryer. The man's eyes are large and searching, a brilliant blue-green, and his back hits the wall.

Hannibal crowds Will’s space, nearly chest to chest. “You can't touch me yet,” Hannibal breathes, “but that doesn't mean I can't touch you.”

“Hannibal…”

“Shhh I just need to know what it's like to kiss you. Keep your hands on the wall, don't touch me.”

Wills body goes rigid. “Are you going to kiss me?”

Hannibal leans in as slow as he can, leaving Will wanting. He stops and lets their noses brush and enjoys the way Will gasps at the contact. Hannibal feels his breath on his skin and it makes him shiver. He kisses Will, a barely there touch of lips, a slowed down exploration. Will just lets it happen. Hannibal swipes his tongue over Will’s bottom lip, bites gently and his cock stirs at the grunt Will makes.

Will’s tongue is warm and sweet, his beard scratchy on Hannibal's cheeks. He presses his body to Will’s and kisses down his cheek and neck to his collarbone hidden under a plain t-shirt.

Will is writhing with every open mouthed kiss placed on his skin. “Hannibal, please, please.” 

Hannibal rests his forehead on Wills chin, breath heavy in the little space between them. He feels a kiss on the top of his head and then he gives Will his space back, though he doesn't want to.

“You're an incredible boy,” Will laughs, struck dumb with the contact. “I wish you'd let me touch you.”

“Two weeks.”

***  
Hannibal can hardly concentrate during the final, during any of his finals. Will drinks coffee while the students write their answers down and all Hannibal can remember is the caramel on Will’s lips that day in the coffee shop. 

The hour is only half over, but Hannibal hands in his final exam and waits for it to be graded. Will smirks, red marker hovering over the paper. He makes one mark, then another towards the end, half points taken away for whatever reason, but he passes anyway.

Will writes down Hannibal's grade in his notebook and hands the test back. “Not bad, Mr. Lecter. You can stop by my office for your recommendation anytime.”

Hannibal is no longer Will Graham's student. He is a student of the college, but not Will’s. The weight has been lifted and he walks from the class knowing full well that Will watches him go until he turns the corner down the hall.

Bedelia and Alana meet Hannibal for drinks at the bar to celebrate finals week being over. The girls sit close, hands held under the table. Alana drinks beer, Bedelia with her signature wine. They smile a lot together and Hannibal wonders what that is like, if he can have that with Will someday. That is, if Will even wants a relationship. Hannibal sips his beer and meets all the social cues throughout the night. He is a good player in life. He is a good student, a good friend.

“I think I'll head home, ladies. Let you finish out the evening.”

It's early, only eleven or so, but Hannibal wants to be alone. He drives home, sober enough with only one beer in his system and collapses on his bed. He strips lying down, shuffling his clothes off and then his boxer briefs. 

Hannibal lies naked under the covers and closes his eyes. He imagines what it's going to be like when he goes to Will’s office tomorrow. He falls asleep and hopes to dream of Will.

There is a bang, rapid and loud that wakes Hannibal in the middle of the night. He rubs his eyes and pulls his underwear on. His room mate may have forgotten his key again. He zombie walks to the door and opens it without question. Will stands before him, wet from the snow.

“Will, what are you doing? It's the middle of the night.” Hannibal crosses his arms over himself when he notices Will staring holes into his skin his hips.

“Without trying to sound like a creep, I needed to see you.”

Hannibal's heart hammers in his throat. “Come in. Let me get dressed.”

“Actually,” Will murmurs, “I’d rather you didn't.” He steps close to Hannibal, touches his bare shoulder with cold fingers that make him shiver. “I've waited long enough.”

He's right. Hannibal is sick of waiting, too. He surges forward and kisses Will hard and pushes the coat from his shoulders. 

Hannibal inhales sharply at the cold touch of Wills fingers along his spine. He arches his back and holds into Will’s hair, right where it is gray and curls around his ears. 

Will kisses along Hannibal's neck, down his chest, hands following where his lips met and he kneels. He looks at up Hannibal with dark worshipful eyes, kneading his hips and thighs. He opens his mouth against the fabric of Hannibal’s underwear and he pants there, breathing him in through the cotton. 

“Oh God, Hannibal. My mouth is watering.” He kisses the waistband and slips his fingers underneath. “Please…” his voice is a hoarse whisper. Hannibal nods for him, his own voice stuck in his throat.

Will pulls his underwear down, traces them to his feet, but he doesn't step out of them. With warm fingers now, Will touches Hannibal’s ankles, calves, knees all the way up his thighs. His thumb brushes Hannibal's balls and he exhales a sigh. He takes Hannibal in hand, pulls the foreskin back and licks across the head. 

“Fuck, Will. Don't get shy on me now.” Hannibal cards his fingers through Will’s hair, playful. 

“I just haven't done this since college,” Will apologizes and ducks his head to take Hannibal into his mouth, hot and wet, lips tight. He moans when he can take it to the back of his throat without much trouble. 

Hannibal pulls Will’s hair. “So good for me, Will. Yes.” He rocks his hips into the suction of Will’s mouth and he moans around his name, fingers tight. 

Will is amazing, little sounds escaping him when he pulls off to use his hand, the other rubbing the front of his slacks. The sight makes Hannibal drip at the tip and Will catches it with his tongue. His lips are swollen, shiny in the moonlight. 

“I want you to come on my face,” Will begs. “I need it. I want to feel it.”

Hannibal nods and guides himself back into Will's mouth. It's a lot of different fantasies all happening at the same time and Hannibal is close. He rubs Will’s head and neck and jaw, stretched around him. 

“Will,” Hannibal breaks off in a deep moan, toes curling. “I'm close, I'm close, I'm gonna come.” and it's beautiful the way Will sits back on his heels, rubbing his own cock through his pants, chin lifted.

Hannibal jacks himself hard, faster than he would like but he's chasing it, wants to see Will covered and messy. 

Hannibal's voice is tight and rough when he growls, “I own you now,” and Will’s eyes get big and space out before he comes on his face, on his tongue, down his chin. Faintly he hears Will groan at the feel of it on his skin. 

Hannibal gets on his knees, spent and tired and fumbles to get Wills pants open. He kisses Will’s come covered lips, tasting himself. Will’s dick is hard and thick between his legs. Hannibal swipes his fingers over Wills cheek and pushes those fingers past his lips so Will can taste it, too.

“Oh Will. You can come. You can, you can, I'll catch you. You're mine now.”

Will whines around Hannibal's fingers and squeezes his eyes shut. He works himself fast and cries out when he's close. 

“I told you I take good care of my things, Will.” Hannibal kisses Will and smiles into his mouth when he feels the man come over both their fingers. They breathe hard together, on the floor in the living room behind the couch. Will is still dressed. Hannibal shivers, naked.

“Am I one of your things now?” Will asks, dazed a bit. 

“I'd like that,” Hannibal replies. “I think you should be taken care of.”

Will kisses Hannibal again, cleans his face on his sweater sleeve, but he remains sticky.

“I've never been in a relationship with another man before.”

“I can show you, Will. I can keep you satisfied. I promise.” Hannibal touches Will’s face, happy and sated. “Come on, let's get some sleep.”

They wash up on the bathroom. Will borrows clean underwear, and they crawl into bed, bodies warm together. Hannibal holds Will. He fears the man never got much of that with his wife. He kisses his back, between his shoulder blades. Runs his nose along the knobs of his spine.

“Good night, Will.”

***

Hannibal wakes up in the morning, rocking his erection between Will’s ass and thighs. He doesn't still when he is fully awake, just wraps his hands around Will’s waist, finds his dick and pumps slowly.

“Good morning,” Hannibal murmurs breathless as he rocks against Will. It's been awhile since he's woken up to a warm body next to him. He's sure it's been longer for Will. He wants to make waking up good for the professor.

Will’s hand follows Hannibal's as he jacks him off, then wanders back to squeeze Hannibal's ass, bring him closer as his dick slips along his thighs.

“Don't stop, Hannibal. You feel wonderful.”

Hannibal lays sloppy kisses to Will’s back as he fucks between his legs. It's lazy and dirty and fun. Hannibal takes himself in hand and slides his dick along Will’s ass, and the man shakes with the need there, the anticipation.

“I could come just feeling the size of you, Hannibal.” Will works his own hand over his dick, pushes his hips back to feel Hannibal's length against him.

“Do it, then. I won't tell a soul how needy you are.”

Will blushes but he comes so fast and he gasps as Hannibal bites down on his shoulder and comes right along with him.

Hannibal holds Will and they fall asleep again, messy and holding each other close. 

They have breakfast, just bagels and jelly but they kiss the sweetness from each other's lips between bites.

“I want this with you, Hannibal. Whatever you'll give me.”

“I'll give you my all.”


End file.
